A new story has been forming in my mind.

In a world where ancient tribes carry the marks of divine beings, three powers have always ruled: Judgment, Protection, and Balance.

But prophecy warns of a fourth mark.

Chaos.

My main character, Logan, was never meant to carry anything.

Born a twin, he was supposed to die before the ritual ever found him.

But fate — or destiny — had other plans.

Now the mark beneath his skin is alive…
and the world may not survive what happens when it awakens.

A New World Has Been Taking Shape… 🌑

Ever since moving into my new home, a new story idea has been living rent-free in my brain, and honestly… I’m completely hooked on it.

Right now, I’m deep in the brainstorming, outlining, and research phase while building the mythology and world behind my new dark fantasy project:

The Fourth Mark

This story has quickly become something much bigger than a random idea. Ancient tribes. Living marks. Celestial moons. Forbidden deities. Chaos born from the shadows of divine order. There’s so much I want to build and explore, and I’m genuinely excited for the challenge of bringing this world to life.

That being said — I’m definitely not putting my other projects on the back burner.

✨ My daughter and I have already started discussing artwork ideas for the next two books in our children’s series.

✨ I’m still battling out scenes and emotional moments for Falling for Neverland.

✨ And I fully intend to continue editing, redesigning, and improving the books I previously published and removed so I can bring them back stronger than before.

So yes… my brain is chaos right now. 😂

But it’s the kind of chaos creatives live for.

Thankfully, I’m learning better ways to organize everything bouncing around in my head, and my goal moving forward is to:

• post at least once a week
• spend more time creating content
• continue building these stories
• and still make room for life, family, kids, and grandkids ❤️

But for now…

I think it’s safe to say The Fourth Mark has completely taken over my imagination, and I’m incredibly excited to see where this journey leads.

Sometimes the scariest stories are the ones that refuse to leave you alone. 🌑

A Little something while we wait

Here is another peek inside Falling From NeverLand

Hamish

The outside world held no magic for me or reprieve from all that looms in these halls. The daylight flees, taking with it my good mood. It seems, my only place of sanctuary is my office. For a brief moment I felt hope, but after a few moments, the feeling is gone. I must solve the riddle of the happenings in my hospital. The unknown gnaws at my brain, taunting me as I fear I too will slip into madness.

Once again I have descended into a world of darkness. The hollowed realism of my existence refuses to leave me. Again, I have failed those I have so longed to save. My fingers slide through the tangled mess of my hair, snagging and pulling thin strands, electrifying the pain impulse in my scalp. Releasing a soft sigh of relief, I know this is real. I cannot let my doubt take hold of me. To allow myself to return to the failures of my past would only ensure that I am a failure.

My head raises from my hands, and my eyes once again look upon my window. My refuge from the darkness that plagues this forsaken place. No matter how hard I try, my father’s dark seed cannot be undone. These people deserve so much more. I know I can give it to them. I have always known that. My father, in many ways, disregarded their pain. He chose not to understand them. Society misjudged them and locked them away.

I release another sigh, but this one, heavier. The burden I must carry is a hard one, but one I chose. I can still hear the cries of all those pleading for help. Their voices will continue to haunt me, I suspect. I know I was young, and there was not much I could do, but I knew most of the people my father tried to cure were never really sick. Reading his journal allowed me to see a different side to his work. It allowed me to see his uncertainty, but it cannot undo what was done. In the end, he was a man of science. What guilt he may had felt was fleeting.  How can one be so cruel?

My head throbs from thoughts of all he had done. Dwelling on my father’s choices will not do my mood any good. I must learn from his mistakes and accept that some of what he did was and still is effective. I cannot let my guilt for using some of his practices hinder my own research. I believe my methods are more human, and I believe they can work. Dorothy will be my lifeline; my connection to the other patients.

I think of the wind and of many things,

And I know it’s time to spread my wings.

I turn my head to the sound of the sad melody that now echoes my halls.

I dare not wait; I must take to the sky

To meet my fate, the hour is nigh

I know that tune. I have heard it before in the remnants of a fading dream.

I think of the rain and the leaves that fall,

I dare not change, and I hear them call

Slowly, I rise from my chair. My body is stiff from sitting far too long.

So, I spread my wings, to soar away

To Neverland, where the children play

I make my way to the door only to see a shadow move down the hallway. The girl’s melody fades, but the words remain on my lips.

There’s no time to waste, so I will soar

Up to the sky, past the forgotten door

I seek a world of dreams and fate,

A world called Neverland awaits.

A simple rhyme that gave so much hope to desperate children. I make my way down the hall, only to find it empty. All life seems to have vanished. Even the color has turned to gray. I fear the worst of me? Shadows dance along the walls of my empty halls. I feel them mocking me, They are testing my will, as if they know my weaknesses, my doubts, my fears.

To rationalize my situation, I tell myself this is only a dream. I have fallen asleep. I will soon wake up. The events that have taken place in these halls are not real. I am not going mad. There are other ways to understand the Darkness that haunts the children. I have not fallen ill to their delusions. Lost in my own thoughts, the words of the melody touch my ears once more.

I think of the wind and of many things,

And I know it’s time to spread my wings.

This time it is not a girl who sings the tune, but a small boy. He sits alone in the corner with his back to me.

I dare not wait; I must take to the sky

To meet my fate, the hour is nigh

He does not notice me as I approach, nor does he budge when I place my hand on his shoulder. Once again young Mr. Mathis is somewhere he should not be. His words fade as he now hums the tune. I lean down to speak to him and notice the scars on his head are more pronounced. They appear red and irritated. The sight sends shivers down my spine. “Quinn,” I whisper, “Quinn, you should not be here. Let me help you to your room.”

The humming stops, his eyes remain fixed on the wall, as he whispers, “I have forgotten.”

Perplexed by his statement, I whisper back, “What have you forgotten?”

His head slowly tilts upward to stare at me, but it is not me he sees. The still expression he holds tells me he is still lost in another world of sorts. Which made his words haunting, “I have forgotten to fly.”

Confused by his statement, I was prepared to ask more, but my words never left my lips. Interrupted by the sound of the clocks striking the hour, my thoughts and questions for Quinn fade away. My hand falls limp on my knee. I look down to see an empty space on the floor. How can this be? How can someone just disappear? This must be a dream. The sound of the clock grows louder. This is a nightmare. I must wake up. I need to wake up. I tell myself this over and over, but I fail to see a way out of this dream.

The chimes stop.

I stand alone.

The tune calls to me once more.